This Phangirl Makes a Passionate Plea
by Rennyangelee
Summary: A sincere and honest letter to a Lerrouxish Erik which contains a piece of the heart of a phangirl with a crush. The rawest and most personal thing I have yet written, I believe. Inspired by "The Further Adventures of Sherlock Holmes: the Angel of the Opera."


Dear Erik,

This began as a reflection and became a rant and then an offer. Please do try to be gentle; there's some real heart in here…not the fake stuff most melodramatics throw out there…I apologize. Just…read?

Everyone in the POTO world seems to think they are so dramatically inspired and moved by things. The logic part of me jumps in and says, "You theater weirdos. If you can really identify, then that's the ticket to performance: embody and convey the appropriate experience as authentically as possible. Inspiration can come from mundane thoughts as well as epiphanies or personal past experiences—on the part of actors as well as spectators."

If you know how to cast the spell, then you'll capture some hearts for sure. But you must truly know how to cast it for the spell to be effective. And, of course, if you have minds and hearts susceptible to theatrics, then they are extremely able to be bewitched. So swept away in the pull of the heartstrings are they that they will foolishly throw every logic and rationale away with no second thought…until they hit reality hard like concrete and lament their passionate impulses only then.

Erik, I'm sorry. I'm sorry that you were encouraged to be so dramatic and impulsive and extreme. Your mom was stupidly superstitious and so afraid of badness that she couldn't really be a good Catholic and/or love at all. Throughout your life, you were encouraged to be an awful, monstrous outsider. Christine was fragile and weak and prone to breaking because of her unstable, dreamy idealizing by her father. Heck, even Raoul makes me want to tsk. They're both children. You know what? They deserve each other. Christine's too young for you, Erik, in mind and heart as well as age I think.

And, Honestly, Erik, I do not believe you wanted her. I know you wanted her voice. But Erik, you treat her voice like your canvas until you possess and control the whole of her purely for its sake. And that…I am sorry, but that makes me upset. I do not believe you love her as Christine: I believe you love her as a porcelain doll that sings with the voice you have given to her. Just that. That is not enough, Erik. Love is so much more than a voice or a pretty face. Real love should be without catches or conditions; your "love" for her seems conditional to me—you want her for her voice.

And she…she does not want Erik; she wants her Angel of Music right out of her dreams, and if you crack the fragile mirror of illusion, then she will run from that sliver of your reality like a frightened little deer. I know: I've seen it in every rooftop scene where Raoul waits for her with a stronger mirror, one that will not shatter when it cracks.

But, and this is important, Christine is not the only woman out there. Your hope for love should not be extinguished at her rejection. She does not have to be the end of your line.

What about me, Erik? Would you let me try? Could I come in? I'll be someone who will not scream at your face. Let me touch it once, just to understand it, and I will know that it is still a face; the mouth moves and your voice comes out, the nose hole moves air in and out and you breathe, the eyes blink and water and move to look around as you do. I have learned something being blind for my whole lifetime: even the things we fear can be understood if we take the time. I love to explore, and my curiosity was encouraged by my family, yes, but it was to allow me to learn in my own way. When it was not known how to teach me, it was experimentation time. My blindness taught me about patience, persistence, compassion, perspective, and mutual respect, among other things. I love sound and music and I don't really mind the dark all that much. Most importantly, though, I value genuine things; I have no patience for facades or faux friends. I want to know people for their hearts and not at all for their looks or for society's expectations. I will never understand race or sighted judgment, and the stereotype of the blind not being judgmental is one that I am proud to represent; that and the one about blind people being drawn to music, because I love music.

Could you like me, Erik? I hope you could love me, for I really, really like you and your music, and I feel for you. I want to give you a friend and a kind heart. I want to show you how someone should really love. Do you think…perhaps…that you could someday love me? I do not try to replace Christine. But I do want to have the chance to love you and…maybe, to be loved by you? I know this is sudden and rather…well, intense, and I know it will take you time to heal, but I'll be here when you are ready to answer. Tell me your answer when you are ready; no sooner.

Your obedient phangirl,

L.A.


End file.
